


One Soiled Shirt

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Mycroft [20], Mycroft doesn't know, Sherlock [13], Sherlock doesn't really understand what's happening, Sherlock is hiding under the bed, Teenlock, does this count as, ehhh, should I warn for anything else?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 14:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1473502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock misses Mycroft and does what he can to feel close to his brother without being discovered. Mycroft doesn't have a bloody clue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Soiled Shirt

The sheets were cold as Sherlock pulled them around his body, but they still smelt like Mycroft when he pressed his nose against them. He closed his eyes, wriggling lower and lifting the top sheet right over his head to block out the rest of the world so that it was just him and his brother's essence.

Mycroft's bed was more comfortable than his own even cold, and his brother's smell was not so much pleasant as it was comforting. Sherlock liked to stay here for hours on end when his brother was out, usually staying perfectly still to allow the ache in his chest to spread all over. The ache which told him how much he missed Mycroft's attention.

They were both growing up. Sherlock would be fourteen in a few months and Mycroft was twenty. He _knew_ he couldn't rely on Mycroft for everything and had to learn to take care of himself, but that didn't stop him from wanting to stay young forever.

He missed the days of sharing a bath with his sibling or playing pirates and running around the house madly. But most of all he missed perching on the edge of Mycroft's bed, leaning forward excitedly and working on an experiment together. Mycroft would explain the different properties of elements to him and sometimes give a demonstration. Sherlock would always listen to every single word and repeat them in his head as necessary to remember it all.

They never did any of those things any more.

Sherlock sighed heavily through his nose  and rolled onto his side, trailing his hand along the mattress and picturing Mycroft in his mind. If only he could just  _ask_ to spend time together again, but Mycroft was far too busy with university and Sherlock was too proud. Only when Mycroft was out did Sherlock express how he really felt. He wanted Mycroft to think he was independent.

Soft footsteps reached Sherlock's ears after a moment, gradually getting louder. He pushed himself up with one arm, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he listened to check where the feet were headed, confused as he was sure Mycroft wasn't meant to be home yet. 

The steps ended outside the door and Sherlock sprung into action as he heard the knob turning. He launched off the bed, his hands touching the floor first and then his body twisting to propel himself underneath in order to hide. It was the safest place he could think of on such short notice.

Someone was in the room now, and Sherlock carefully moved so he could peer out at the feet.

Mycroft. What was Mycroft doing back? Sherlock had been sure that his brother wasn't planning on coming back tonight, which was why he had planned to sleep in his bed. Mycroft being back now certainly posed a problem. How would Sherlock get out without being seen and having to explain why he was there in the first place?

For now, Sherlock could only hope that Mycroft would have to leave for the loo or a last minute snack before settling in to bed, or he'd have to wait a while for the man to fall asleep before making his move. Things would  have been so much simpler if Mycroft had only left the door open after coming in.

Breathing slowly and silently, Sherlock waited and watched. Mycroft's feet wandered over to his desk and the man sighed, clearly tired after a long day. A light thud sounded and Sherlock assumed it was Mycroft's bag being dumped onto his chair.

Nothing else happened for a few minutes. Beginning to grow restless, Sherlock looked back over at the door and thought about all the ways he could get over to it without his brother noticing. If he managed to get to the door without Mycroft hearing or turning around, he might be able to then fling it open and act as though he had just arrived, maybe adding an exclamation of 'You're home!' to convince Mycroft he had just burst in.

He was about to start crawling when Mycroft walked over to the bed. Now that he was so close and once again facing the door, Sherlock would have to stay put.

Mycroft's tie fell to the floor, half a metre away from Sherlock's head. From the sounds, Sherlock ascertained that the suit jacket would be next to go and was proven correct when it did indeed hit the floor as well. Mycroft's shirt followed shortly after as well and then the man toed off his shoes.

Sherlock was frowning in confusion. He had never seen Mycroft discard any items of clothing in such a careless way before. Was something wrong? Should he crawl out now, reveal himself, and ask what had happened?

While Sherlock thought about what to do, Mycroft's socks and trousers were also left in a heap on the bedroom floor. The man then climbed onto his bed, the springs creaking softly and Sherlock being able to see exactly where Mycroft was from the dip in the mattress that sunk down inches away from Sherlock's body.

Mycroft let out a quiet sigh again, shifting above Sherlock in a movement that the younger boy couldn't quite figure out. The missing knowledge didn't frustrate him, however, as the boy instead decided to use the time – since he was clearly not going anywhere – to stretch his mind and try to work it out. Challenges always excited him.

So he studied the mattress above him by lifting his arms and legs just enough to feel each dip made from Mycroft's body and did his best to lie in the same way as his brother. It was likely Mycroft was just preparing to go to sleep, but Sherlock refused to let that discourage him. There was still so much he could learn, such as how Mycroft's hands were situated and which way his head was turned.

Mycroft made another noise then, but this time is sounded more like a groan of pain. Had he injured himself somehow? Was that why he didn't care about folding his clothes neatly like he usually did?

The mattress began shifting once more, which meant Mycroft was definitely doing more than trying to go to sleep. It became a steady, constant movement that was so subtle it confused Sherlock briefly. The boy tried to copy it, rocking back and forth and imaging a bed shifting beneath him, comparing his imaginary mattress to Mycroft's.

His brother's breaths were audible now, and occasionally stinted. A dip in the mattress further down lifted slightly and Sherlock lifted his hips in mimic, but before he could lower them again the dip pressed down and brushed his groin.

Flattening his body to the floor, Sherlock stared at the springs above his head in surprise. Of _course_. Now he understood: Mycroft was masturbating. How could it not have occurred to him until now?

Mycroft was still breathing heavily and letting out some moans every now and then. All of the sounds were suddenly so much more interesting to Sherlock, and he wondered what Mycroft would do if he did show himself now. He might be able to help, but he stayed put because he was sure that Mycroft wouldn't be pleased.

One of his hands curiously slid beneath the waistband of his pyjama trousers, thinking that he could at least pretend that Mycroft had invited him in for a moment of shared intimacy. If Mycroft was going to pleasure himself, Sherlock would do the same. They were brothers, and who better to teach Sherlock – unknowingly – the best masturbation techniques?

He wouldn't get everything right, Sherlock knew that, but he could try. And he already knew the basics anyway.

His fingers pushed beneath his pants and slowly curled around his cock, which was already beginning to harden in excitement. He pulled it free and began to stroke it, trying to match his speed with Mycroft's by comparing the shifts in the mattress with his brother's quick breaths. It wasn't very difficult.

Sherlock sucked his bottom lip between his teeth to make sure he stayed quiet since he didn't want to ruin any of this by suddenly alerting Mycroft to his presence. He then turned his head to the side, focusing on the pile of Mycroft's clothes and daring to reach out for Mycroft's shirt after brief consideration.

He pulled the material to his face, breathing in the stronger scent of his brother and letting a few fantasies run wild in his mind. He imagined Mycroft undressing for him, showing off his body and then walking over to take Sherlock's cock in his hand. He imagined his hand as Mycroft's, and that Mycroft was the one stroking him like this. He imagined Mycroft telling him how much he'd missed him. Mycroft lying beside him and pressing their foreheads together. Mycroft panting into his ear as Sherlock stroked him with his long fingers.

" _Sherlock_."

His heart leapt into his throat and he froze.

Had he been caught? Had he made a noise which Mycroft heard?

"Oh, Sh... Sherlock. Please."

He wasn't caught. Mycroft was thinking of him, too.

Sherlock resumed his stroking, arching his hips up so that the back of his hand pressed against the springs holding Mycroft's mattress. He felt closer to the man that way and was counting on Mycroft being too close to his orgasm to notice if he accidentally bumped against it too hard.

If he leaned up slightly he could press his cheek against the springs as well, which he did. Mycroft let out another groan and Sherlock felt himself coming dangerously close to his climax as the movements of his brother's body pressed the springs against him.

Lying his head down on the floor again, the boy brought Mycroft's shirt down over his cock and stroked himself through it, his mouth hanging open silently. He was so close and the change of texture against him only brought him closer.

Sherlock timed what happened next carefully. He knew he was going to reach his orgasm soon and wanted to let out at least a small sound since he'd been holding back so far, but he still didn't want to get caught. So he slowed just slightly, waiting.

A low groan built up in Mycroft's throat and Sherlock twisted the material of the shirt over the head of his cock.

" _My_ croft," he whimpered underneath Mycroft's groan turning into a " _Sherlock_."

Sherlock panted quietly in the aftermath of his orgasm, listening closely to his brother finishing up as well. He tilted his head to glance at the soiled shirt in his hand, feeling a dirty smugness which made him smile as he imagined Mycroft searching for the item of clothing later.

Then Mycroft was finished too, his body finally lying still again as he tried to catch his breath.

Sherlock began breathing through his nose as Mycroft's own breathing grew quieter, for he knew that he would have to be utterly silent so his brother could relax enough to fall asleep. Thankfully, Sherlock felt so blissfully satisfied after what had happened that he didn't even grow bored as he had to wait.

An hour later, Mycroft's breaths had evened out and Sherlock was confident he was asleep, so he carefully crawled out from under the bed and stood up. His brother was mostly naked, his pants being the only item of clothing that covered him as he lay on top of his sheets. There was a damp wash-cloth sitting on the bedside table, recently used.

Not wanting to linger for too long, Sherlock then turned and slowly opened the door to let himself out. Careful not to make a noise, the only piece of evidence he left of ever being in Mycroft's room was the shirt he had used to pleasure and clean himself.

He wanted Mycroft to find it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> It certainly has been an experience writing a fic with almost no speech. And having to describe what Mycroft was doing only through what Sherlock could see or hear was difficult.
> 
> So it's been challenging, but fun, and I hope you enjoyed it!!
> 
> I'm also on tumblr: [wheresmywatson](http://wheresmywatson.tumblr.com/)


End file.
